He doesn’t stop as he covers my mouth with a hand.
“You think I don’t know my way around you by now, Bird?”
I lick his palm in response, salt and chlorine. He twists his hand, brushes a thumb across my lips. Straightens, kisses the spot beneath my ear, sucks the lobe into his mouth.
“If I leave a mark it’s because I mean to,” he says, guttural as dirt.
I find his cock through his swim trunks, press my hand against it and the cold, wet fabric warm in seconds with his heat.
“And why would you mean that?” I ask.
Seth drives his hips into me, and I squeeze. Grab his shoulder from behind with my other hand, the muscle thick and hard, and I sink my teeth in.
Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get a gasp and a growl and an extra twist of the nipple he’s still pinching.
“Because I like finding them later,” he says. His voice is a harsh whisper, and I let his cock go, tug at the laces holding his swim trunks on. “And I like thinking about you finding them and remembering what a good time you had.”
I tug. The laces come free, velcro tears apart, the shorts fall off, his cock springs out.
He kisses me fiercely, my hand circling him again, stroking. His length is hard and hot against my thigh, and Seth groans so loudly that I hope no one’s walking by outside.
“Off,” he says, and pulls at my bathing suit, tugging the straps over my shoulders and down, mouth never relenting. I untangle my arms, pull them free, push at the wet fabric still covering my hips.
“Fucking wet spandex,” I hiss, wriggling. “I swear, it’s —"
I wriggle and it’s finally over my thighs, my knees, and then I stomp and kick and half-turn and nearly fall over because there’s never been anything less sexy than getting out of a swimsuit, and Seth grabs my arm, catches me.
“There,” I gasp, just as he pushes me against the wall again, only this time I’m facing it and I gasp at the contact, my skin already puckered from being wet and cold, my fists clenched over my head.
He pulls at my hips, fingers sinking into flesh, mouth on the back of my neck and cock pressed against my lower back. His hands roam, feeling me like we’ve never touched before.
Then, he pauses. He stills his hands against my ribs, and they feel white-hot.
“You’re freezing,” he says.
“I’m fine,” I say, even though he’s right, every inch of my flesh goosebumped.
He doesn’t move his hands again.
“Um, there’s a thermostat,” I say, very much not thinking about the thermostat.
His lips move slowly against my neck, like he’s thinking.
Then he smacks my ass, steps away, grabs my hand.
“C’mon,” he says, and pulls me to the bathroom.
He pushes me against the sink. Tweaks a nipple.
“Don’t move,” he says, and steps to the glass-walled shower, reaches in, starts the water.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I tease.
He frowns, flips a knob.
“I just did.”
I lean back, into the counter. I prop a foot against the cabinet, my eyes glued to Seth, slide my hand down my belly, over my thigh. He turns at my sharp inhale and looks back at me, rubbing my clit with one hand.
“I’ve never been good at following directions,” I say, the words exhaled in a rush. I’m even wetter than I realized, so sensitive that I’m already on edge.
If Seth wasn’t feral before, he is now. He glances into the shower one more time, steam already pouring from the stall, crosses the small bathroom toward me. Takes my hand by the wrist and anchors both of them onto the counter, pressing my palms into the cool stone.
“Congratulations,” he growls, leaning into me, pushing me backward over the counter. “You found the one time that I don’t want to watch you get yourself off.”
He crushes his mouth against mine, invades me with his tongue. His teeth slide against my lip, send shivers down my spine even as the steam from the shower is billowing against the ceiling, floating down, winding around us.
“You don’t?” I ask, still teasing.
“I’d much rather do it myself.”
His lips drop: my neck, collarbone. He doesn’t let my hands go, keeps his locked tightly around my wrists. I struggle against them for half a second but it’s just for show, and he laughs with his lips around one nipple.
Seth bites, sucks. I moan. The bathroom heats, the water in the shower pounding down, steam curling through the air until my skin is warm and damp. Lips against my raven tattoo, dragging over my stomach, the slight hill of my lower belly.
I part my thighs without being told, Seth on his knees in front of me. He looks up at me as his tongue finds my clit, gently, gently teases it, and I whimper.
His hands tighten around my wrists and he teases, teases, the lightest touch on the single most sensitive point of my body until I’m fully bent backward, panting for breath, head resting against the mirror over the sink.
“It feels better when you do it,” I say.
Suddenly he drags his tongue over my clit, hard and slow.
I shout, gasp, arch my back. I pull my hands against his and this time he lets me go, flicks my clit one more time, and plants my foot on his shoulder, hand gripping my ankle. I use him as leverage and push up until I’m sitting on the counter and he drags me forward, thighs spread.
Then he grabs my hands, puts them back where they were. Holds them with his own and teases me again: flick, flick, flick, drag.
“So much better,” I gasp out. He rewards me with another hard, slow drag of his tongue, and I roll my hips forward, seeking more, but he doesn’t give it.
Seth teases me with quick, deliberate flicks, swirls. Twice I’m on the brink, and twice he leaves my clit and slides his tongue between my lips, teasing at my entrance until my breathing evens back out.
The third time I nearly come, he pulls away entirely, his lips finding my inner thigh. My eyes fly open.
“Wait, no,” I say, voice ragged. “Go back.”
He doesn’t. Instead he lets my hands go and stands, leans over me, swipes one thumb along my wet slit as he does. I groan, quietly, and then his mouth is on mine and I lick my juices from his lips.
“I missed that,” he says, curling his hands over my body again: belly, hips, breasts. “Who knew heaven was listening to you moan with my tongue on your clit?”
I’m surprised to discover that I’ve got one foot in the sink, the other on a towel rack, and I move them both, sit forward. Pull him toward me, my legs on either side of his torso, looking straight into his eyes for once.
The shower’s still going, the bathroom so filled with steam that I can barely see the opposite wall. We’re both slick with it, tiny droplets gathering and merging on skin, and I mean to answer but instead I kiss him again and slide my hands over the muscles in his shoulders, his arms, his chest. I bend my head and lick droplets from his neck, the hollow of his throat as his hands skim down my back.
Seth pulls me off the counter so I’m standing in front of him and he’s towering over me again. My hand goes to his cock, circles it. Squeezes, and he groans. Grabs my ass, holds me against him. Ravishes my mouth with his.
I wriggle, stroke his cock again. He doesn’t relent, still backing me against the counter.